The Love Song of F William Mulder
by slincoln
Summary: An infamous evil returns, but what is his connection to Mulder? (X-Files/Silence of the Lambs)


The Love Song of F. William Mulder  
By: Sam Lincoln  
  
Category: CAX  
  
Rating: PG-13/R for scenes of graphic violence.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters from the X-Files are the intellectual  
property of 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. All characters  
from the works of Thomas Harris are, obviously the intellectual  
property of Thomas Harris.   
  
Summary: An infamous evil returns, but what is his connection to   
Mulder?  
  
*Beach, 3:30 AM*  
  
It was the night of the prom and a group of students were celebrating  
with a beach bonfire. The large fire blazed against the night sky and  
loud rock music blared out of a portable stereo. Some of the  
party*goers danced, while others sat around and talked. From time to  
time couples slipped away from the main group and stole into the  
night.  
  
One such pair of inebriated teens stumbled over a dune, putting the  
rest of the part out of sight. The boy leaned over to kiss the girl,  
who pushed him away.  
  
"I don't know Vance," the girl said, "this doesn't seem like a good  
idea..."  
  
"Come on Steph, you know I love you." The boy pleaded. "And with you  
going away to that fancy school we might not get the chance for a long  
time," he reached out and stroked Steph's face.  
  
She caught Vance's hand in hers, "I know, but I'm saving myself,  
remember? I do love you, but I made that promise."  
  
"You also promised you wouldn't get drunk," Vance countered. "You're  
eighteen Steph, you don't have to live by his rules anymore."  
  
"But..." Steph said, visibly wavering.  
  
"You say that you love me, so prove it...I'll even use protection," he  
added. He kissed her again, this time she did not push him away.  
  
"I don't want anyone to see is," Steph said after they broke for air.  
  
"We can hide out in that cliff, there are a bunch of caves and stuff  
in it." Vance pointed over to a large outcropping of rock further  
down the beach. "Nobody will know we're there."  
  
The two horny teens made their way across the beach to the cave, which  
was more a small valley than a cave. As soon as they were sheltered  
by the rocks Steph launched herself at Vance and the couple staggered  
further into the outcropping, shedding clothes as they went.  
  
"Oh Vance," Steph gasped, "I love you..." she was cut off when she  
tripped over something and fell down. "What the hell?" She  
exclaimed as she rolled over to see what tripped her, and came face to  
face with a head. Steph shrieked and scrambled to her feet. Lying  
before them in the pale moonlight was a corpse. Steph sobbed and  
clung to Vance, who in turn leaned over and vomited.  
  
"We have to go back," Steph said between sobs, "We need to call the  
police." Vance just nodded and the teens ran away from the  
outcropping, leaving the corpse staring up at the moon.  
  
*FBI HQ, 7:58am*  
  
Fox Mulder walked into his office armed with two cups of coffee. He  
found his partner, Dana Scully, waiting for him inside. "Morning  
Scully," he said in greeting.  
  
"Morning Mulder," Scully said, not looking up from the file she was  
reading. "Mulder?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah?" Mulder set one of the coffee cups down next to his partner  
and sat down behind his desk.  
  
"Why do you have copies of the Starling and Lector files?" She stared  
at her partner intently.  
  
Mulder squirmed in his seat, "What, a guy can't be interested in the  
most famous case in the Bureau's history?"  
  
"Let's just say it falls outside your normal ranger on interests,"  
Scully replied. "did you know Agent Starling?"  
  
"We worked together on a couple of cases when we were both with BSU,  
but I never really got to know her," Mulder said over his coffee.   
"How about you?"  
  
"She was a female agent, of course I knew her. Not that we were  
friends, but we'd see each other at meetings, conferences, symposia,  
that sort of thing. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I asked because you asked me, what's good for the gander is good for  
the goose."  
  
"Well I asked you because I want to know why you've all of a sudden  
taken an interest in a dead case that has nothing to do with the  
X*Files...it doesn't right?"  
  
Mulder shrugged, "As far as I know. I suppose for the practice, and  
to see if maybe I could find something that everyone else missed."  
  
Scully steepled her fingers, "So what do you think happened to Agent  
Starling?"  
  
"That's the big question isn't it, and whoever figures it out wins the  
prize. Tell you what I'll tell you my theory if you tell me yours."  
  
"My guess is that he killed her," Scully said. "He was wrapping up  
loose ends, Milton Varger and Clarice Starling."   
  
Mulder nodded, "That's certainly possible, but I think that..."  
Mulder was interrupted by the phone ringing. He picked up the  
receiver, "Agent Mulder, yes, we'll be right there." He hung the  
phone up. "You, me, Skinner's office, now." They stood up and left  
the office, leaving the file folders open. On top of the stack of  
papers lay a picture of Lector taken during his incarceration. In the  
photo Lector stared at the camera like a wolf in the zoo stares at the  
zookeepers.  
  
*A.D. Skinner's office, 8:03 am*  
  
Skinner's assistant let Mulder and Scully into the Assistant  
Director's office and the two agents sat down in the chairs in front  
of Skinner's desk; all without Skinner looking up from his paperwork.   
  
  
Mulder cleared his throat, "You wanted to see us sir?"  
  
Skinner put his pen down and picked up two folders, "yes I did, now  
pay attention because we have to move quickly. Earlier this morning a  
body was discovered on a beach in Maryland. The local authorities  
requested our help and you two are going to do just that."  
  
"If I may sir, why us?" Scully asked.  
  
"Because Agent Scully, there are some abnormalities regarding this  
case, and the two of you are the best at dealing with abnormalities."  
  
"Just what sort of abnormalities are we talking about here?" Mulder  
asked.  
  
"The body was found with a peach jammed into its mouth."  
  
"A peach?" Scully asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes, a peach," Skinner replied. "There's a chopper waiting for you  
right now. The local police haven't moved the body yet, but obviously  
the clock is running so move people."  
  
"Yes sir," Scully replied as she and Mulder stood up.  
  
"Good luck agents," Skinner told the pair before returning to his  
paperwork.  
  
Mulder and Scully walked in silence to the helipad. Scully caught  
Mulder's arm before he boarded the helicopter. "Mulder, what is it?"   
You haven't said a word since Skinner's office."  
  
Mulder shook his head, "It's nothing."  
  
"come on Mulder, what are you thinking?"  
  
Mulder stared at Scully for a moment before putting on his sunglasses,  
"I think it's a nice day to go to the beach." He climbed into the  
helicopter before Scully had a chance to respond.  
  
*Beach, 9:37 PM*  
  
The FBI helicopter swung over the beach and landed next to a cluster  
of police cars and ambulances. Mulder and Scully got out of the  
helicopter, which promptly took off again.  
  
"He's going to meet us at the police station," Scully explained to  
Mulder as they ducked under a line of police tape.  
  
"Who found the body?" Mulder asked.  
  
"A couple of teenagers looking for a make*out spot," Scully replied.  
  
Mulder nodded and watched as a policewoman wearing a campaign hat  
walked towards them. "It's showtime," Mulder whispered to Scully.  
  
"Hi there," the policewoman said, "I'm Sheriff Danielle Hammond, you  
must be the FBI agents I requested?"  
  
"That's right," Mulder said while flashing his badge, "I'm Special  
Agent Fox Mulder, and this is my partner Special Agent Dana Scully."  
  
"Believe me I'm damn glad to see you here," Hammond said after shaking  
their hands, "I'm not saying we're a bunch of amateurs here, but we're  
used to dealing with domestic disputes and traffic accidents. You  
know, normal stuff."  
  
"Have you identified the victim yet?" Scully asked the sheriff.  
  
Hammond shook her head, "He's not from around here and he didn't have  
any ID on him."  
  
"And the only people who've been here are the two who found the body  
and your people?"   
  
The sheriff nodded, "That's correct Agent Mulder, I figured you  
wouldn't want a lot of people getting in your way and polluting the  
crime scene."  
  
"Signature killers like to return to the crime scene, a smart one  
would only do so if there's a crowd. If there was a crowd we could  
have had your deputies looking for anything unusual."  
  
"Well shoot, I didn't think of that," the sheriff admitted.  
  
"I'm sure the victim's family will appreciate your keeping this from  
turning into a media circus," Scully added.  
  
"Where's the body?" Mulder asked brusquely.  
  
"Right over here," Hammond said, "Follow me and I'll show you."  
  
The FBI agents followed the sheriff as she walked towards a rock*faced  
cliff. "Mulder," Scully hissed.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"My job."  
  
"There's no reason to berate the woman over following procedure."  
  
"Scully, do you know how many killers get caught because they return  
to the crime scene?"  
  
"I understand that Mulder, but nothing says that would be true in this  
case, so lay off."  
  
Mulder shrugged but didn't say anything. Instead he examined their  
surroundings. One either side of them forbidding rock walks loomed.   
The floor of the valley consisted of sand with tufts of beach grass  
sprouting up in patches. Mulder kneeled and examined the ground.  
  
"Have you accounted for every set of footprints?" he asked.  
  
The sheriff turned and nodded, "There was just the two kids' when we  
got here."  
  
Mulder nodded, "Ok, let's see the body." He stood back up and walked  
over to where a group of policemen were standing.  
  
Sheriff Hammond walked over to Scully's side. "No offense, but is  
your partner always..."  
  
"This crabby?" Scully supplied.  
  
"...a flaming ass," Hammond finished.  
  
Scully sighed, "He's really not that bad once you get to know him.   
It's just, these cases put him on edge."  
  
Hammond took off her hat and ran her fingers through her blonde hair,  
"Still, he's nice to look at."  
  
Scully shrugged, "I suppose."  
  
"What, you've never sat back and just enjoyed him?"  
  
"I'm going to see if Mulder needs any help," Scully muttered before  
escaping the conversation.  
  
Mulder sidestepped the knot of deputies and got his first good look at  
the corpse. As he stood there Scully walked up next to him.  
  
"So what do you think?" Scully asked, "Did he wash ashore?"  
  
"He sheriff," Mulder called out, "does high tide reach this far?"  
  
"Well that answers that," Mulder said. "He was dumped." He walked  
around the corpse, "Do you see any signs of injury?"  
  
Scully shook her head, "No, but we'll know more after the autopsy."   
She cocked her head to one side, "Pretty strange clothes, are they  
flannel?"  
  
Mulder knelt down and examined the pants, "White flannel," he glanced  
down at the dead man's feet, "with the cuffs rolled up," he frowned,  
"Hey Scully, is he balding?"  
  
Scully walked around the body and looked at it's head, "A little,  
why?"  
  
Mulder stood up, "Sheriff Hammond I need someone to drive me to the  
library."  
  
"Do you want me to come along?" Scully asked.  
  
"No, I need you to find out how this man died," Mulder ordered as he  
walked towards the mouth of the valley.  
  
"What is it?" Scully asked.  
  
Mulder stopped and faced his partner, "I need to do some research," he  
said before continuing on.  
  
"Here we go," Scully muttered to herself. She looked down at the  
corpse, "And who the hell are you?"  
  
*County Coroner's Office, 12:14 PM*  
  
Scully adjusted her rubber gloves and turned on her tape recorder.   
"This is Special Agent Dana Scully, I am about to perform the autopsy  
of a John Doe, determine the cause of death and rule on the  
possibility of a homicide. The subject is six feet tall, weighs two  
hundred and five pounds and is approximately forty years in age. On  
discovery the subject was dressed in a white flannel suit," Scully  
paused, "with the cuffs of his pants rolled up." She picked up a pair  
of forceps, "There was also a peach lodged in the subject's mouth. I  
am removing it now." She used the forceps to force the dead man's  
mouth further open and gingerly removed the peach. "The peach appears  
to be a normal specimen of the fruit, but we'll have to have the lab  
do a more complete examination." She placed the peach in a container  
before continuing. "There are no obvious signs of struggle on the  
body," Scully took a syringe and withdrew a sample of blood. "No  
visible cause of death. I will now make a Y*incision.  
  
As Scully reached for her knife the door to the examination room  
opened and Mulder walked in. "Find anything yet Scully?"  
  
Scully turned off the tape recorder. "Nothing yet, I just started my  
examination. Did you find what you were looking for at the library?"  
  
Mulder nodded, "That I did."  
  
"And?" Scully asked, exasperated.  
  
"And check the lungs for salt water, he was drowned." Mulder turned  
and walked out of the room.  
  
*County Police Station, 1:52 PM*  
  
Scully found Mulder sitting in a break room tying something on his  
laptop. "Ok, how did you know?" She demanded.  
  
Mulder looked up from his computer, "How did I what?"  
  
"The cause of death."  
  
Sheriff Hammond came into the room, "You determined the cause of  
death?" She asked Scully.  
  
"The victim died as a result of drowning," Scully said, "In salt  
water," she added. "So I ask again, Mulder, how did you know?"  
  
"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea/By sea girls wreathed  
with seaweed red and brown/Till human voices wake us and we drown," he  
recited.  
  
"I don't get it," Sheriff Hammond said.  
  
"How's your college poetry?" Mulder asked. "It's a poem by TS  
Elliott."  
  
Scully frowned, "The Wasteland?"  
  
Mulder shook his head, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."  
  
"Wait, so you knew this poor bastard was drowned because of some  
poem?"  
  
Mulder nodded, "It fits. Listen, 'I shall wear the bottom of my  
trousers rolled/Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare eat a peach/I  
shall wear white flannel and walk upon the beach.' The victim was  
present like the narrator in the poem. In fact that's why this victim  
was selected, he fit the part of Prufrock."  
  
The sheriff sank into a chair, her hands massaging her temples, "Oh, I  
feel a migraine coming on."  
  
A deputy walked into the room. "The, uh, FBI just faxed this over,  
it's the ID on the body based on the dental records Agent Scully sent  
over." He handed a sheet of paper to the sheriff and left the room.  
  
Hammond read the sheet then handed it to Scully, "His name was Mark  
Strain from Hannibal Missouri."  
  
Mulder closed the laptop and returned it to his bag. "Okay Sheriff  
Hammond we've got all we need from here for now. Either ourselves or  
another pair of agents will be here tomorrow." He stood up and walked  
to the door. "Come on Scully."  
  
"Wait, you're leaving already?"  
  
"Sure, this is a dead end the killer chose your beach because it was  
secluded, the murder itself was committed somewhere else. Cheer up  
sheriff, you don't have a psychopath on your hands. It's our  
problem." Mulder pushed Scully out the door.  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Hammond demanded.  
  
"Because I know who the killer is...Hannibal Lector," Mulder walked  
out of the room, leaving behind a stunned sheriff.  
  
*Randal Watkins Memorial Park, 1:57 pm*  
  
Hannibal Lector casually sat on a park bench facing the police  
station. From where he was sitting he could see the black helicopter  
with FBI markings and he was curios to see who the FBI had sent.   
There wasn't much point to the whole exercise otherwise. He reached  
into the picnic basket Clarice had prepared for him. Clarice, the  
thought made him smile. It was that sort of amusement that was  
missing from his life, hence his return to US soil, and the dead body  
on the beach. Lector withdrew a bottle of mineral water and took a  
sip. As he patted his lips dry with a napkin he took a moment to  
survey his surroundings. It wouldn't do for the most wanted man in  
America to be caught one hundred yards from a police station. He did  
not see anything that aroused his suspicious, just mothers and fathers  
with their children. Up until recently Lector had not given much  
thought to children, but now he was starting to think that it might be  
nice to have someone he could bestow his experience onto. It was  
something he planned to discuss with Clarice when he returned home.  
  
His reverie was broken when he saw a man enter the helicopter and  
start the craft up. "Going home already eh?" Lector said to himself.  
"You're either brilliant or a dunce, let's see which you are." He  
reached into the picnic basket and withdrew a camera. He pointed the  
camera at the helicopter and then waited. It did not take long before  
a man and a woman came into view. Lector could not see the man's face  
because his face was turned towards the woman. Lector took a picture.  
  
"I don't know you," he told the woman, "You must be new. Now as for  
you my good man, if you'd just turn around." As if on cue the lanky  
man with the dark hair turned and faced where Lector was sitting.   
  
"My, my," Lector muttered as he took a picture, "Agent Fox Mulder, so  
nice to see you again. Yes, this will be a profitable venture,  
profitable indeed." Lector returned the camera to the basket and  
withdrew a croissant. He did not know how Clarice managed, but she  
could always find the most delectable croissants. Lector took a bite  
of the pasty and leaned back on the bench. He would have to give  
Agent Mulder a call, just to catch up on old times.  
  
*FBI Helicopter, 1:58 PM*  
  
"Mulder, I still can't believe you'd tell the sheriff something like  
thatÉMulder?" Scully asked when she saw that she did not have Mulder's  
attention.  
  
Mulder, who had been looking out the window of the helicopter turned  
in his seat and faced his partner. "What?" He asked, "Sorry Scully,  
my attention drifted."  
  
"Did you see something important out there?" Scully asked, the  
sarcasm dripping from her voice.  
  
Mulder glanced out the window, but the man on the park bench eating  
lunch out of a picnic basket had disappeared. "No, I don't think so."  
  
"Then would you mind explaining to me why you decided to scare that  
poor woman half to death with your theory that the boogyman did it?"  
  
"Hannibal Lector is no the boogyman Scully, he's very real."  
  
"So why did you say he did it?"  
  
"Because he did."  
  
"ButÉ"  
  
"Because he fits the profile."  
  
"What profile?"  
  
Mulder pulled his jacket over his head, "The one in my briefcase, that  
I wrote in the library."  
  
"Just because you've been reading Lector's case file is no reason to  
think he's responsible for this," Scully insisted. "Do you know how  
many times people have claimed Lector was responsible for a murder  
since Agent Starling's disappearance?"  
  
"I'm guessing a lot," Mulder said from underneath his jacket.  
  
"And how many times did it turn out to be Lector?"  
  
"I'm guessing none."  
  
"My point exactly, Lector is just a convenient scapegoat."  
  
"There's a difference here Scully. I'm the person saying its' Lector,  
not a husband trying to divert attention from himself. Not an  
incompetent cop looking for an easy answer, but me. And when have I  
been wrongÉabout a profile," he hastily added.  
  
Scully sighed, "I really hope you're wrong Mulder."  
  
"So do I."  
  
*FBI HQ, 2:36 PM*  
  
Skinner was waiting on the edge of the tarmac when the helicopter  
landed. "What the hell were you thinking?" Skinner raged when Mulder  
disembarked.  
  
Mulder handed Skinner a file folder, "The victim was presented in a  
manner based on the poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock," by TS  
Elliot. The peach, clothes, and location are all explicitly referred  
to in the poem. This suggests we're dealing with a highly literate  
killer with a sense of humor."  
  
Skinner frowned, "A sense of humor? What's so funny about a dead  
body?"  
  
"Well sir," Mulder continued, "It helps if you know that Elliot is  
very popular among crime fiction as a focal point for signature  
killers. Two of his works, "Wasteland," and "The Hollow Men," have  
been very prominently featured in two highly successful novels. It's  
almost a clichŽ to use an Elliot poem in such stories."  
  
"So our guy isn't showing much originality, big deal."  
  
Mulder shook his head, "It's deliberate Prufrock is probably the  
best*known, and most accessible, of Elliot's lesser works. By  
choosing Prufrock the killer is mocking pop culture. It's just the  
sort of 'gag' that would appeal to Lector. I suspect we're going to  
find out that this peach is one of the more exotic varieties, also in  
keeping with Lector's personality. Plus the pants were very well  
pressed."  
  
"You'll need more than well pressed pants to convince me Agent,"  
Skinner growled.  
  
Mulder glanced at Scully, "You can jump in here any time and back me  
up," he said to his partner.  
  
"Oh no, you seem to be doing a fantastic job all on your own," Scully  
quipped.  
  
"Alright," Mulder sighed, "There's the poem itself."  
  
"You mean beyond its ironic selection?" Skinner asked.  
  
"Yes, Prufrock is about a middle*aged man bemoaning the onset of his  
declining years. Lector is not a young man, and this could be his way  
of showing that he won't slip quietly into senility."  
  
"It's an interesting theory Agent Mulder," Skinner said after a moment  
of reflection. "But you don't have any hard proof, right?"  
  
"I don't have a signed confession if that's what you're asking."  
  
"Any piece of physical evidence would be a nice start."  
  
"If I had said it was anyone other than Lector you would have believed  
me, right?"  
  
"Agent Mulder, you know as well as I do that profiles are only  
generalities that suggest motivation for a person's behavior. Just  
because a person fits a certain pattern does not conclusively say that  
person is guilty."  
  
"Why do you refuse to believe this? What's so scary about Lector?   
He's just a man, he's been caught before."  
  
"Because Lector is a headache I don't want to consider unless I  
absolutely have to. I don't want to cause a needless panic."  
  
"And if it is Lector?" Mulder shot back.  
  
"Then we'll have needed panic," Skinner replied. "But until then you  
don't tell anyone outside of the three of us. If I see this in the  
Tattler I'll have your head."  
  
"What about Sheriff Hammond?" Scully asked.  
  
"I explained to her that her ass would be mounted next to Mulder's  
head in my office if the story leaked."  
  
"Oh,"  
  
"Now, I want the two of you to work this case full time. Mulder get  
on the horn to Quantico and go over your preliminary profile with  
them. Scully take the evidence you've gathered down to the lab. I'll  
want you both back in Maryland tomorrow. Cheer up Mulder, you get to  
be Agent in charge of this investigation."  
  
"Sir?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Just think of it as a little incentive to keep an open mind. You  
know the rule regarding Lector right?"  
  
Mulder nodded, "If you've ever interacted with Lector you can't work  
in the field against him. He likes to target agents. For the same  
reason he also enjoyed taking potshots at hunters during deer season.   
The hunted hunter imagery amuses him."  
  
"Which is why if it is Lector you're going back to the basement."  
  
Mulder glared at Skinner, "I thought you'd know by now that I don't  
respond well to threats."  
  
"I think you have a conference call to make," Skinner growled.  
  
"I don't see the point since I know who the killer is," Mulder  
replied, his tone dark.  
  
"He'll get right on that," Scully interjected as she grabbed Mulder  
and dragged him off the tarmac.  
  
Skinner waited until the door had shut behind the two agents before  
taking out his cellphone and dialing a number. "It's Skinner, yes, I  
explained it to him. He reacted exactly like you thought he would,  
I'll keep you informed." Skinner finished the call and put away his  
phone. "Son of a bitch!" he cursed to no one in particular.  
  
*Baltimore, 2:42 PM*  
  
Lector deposited his picnic basket on the dining room table in his  
rented apartment. He took the camera out of the basket and walked  
into a makeshift darkroom he'd set up. With practiced ease he  
developed the film he'd taken at the police station.  
  
"Hello again Agent Mulder," Lector said as Mulder's face appeared on a  
print. "Let's find out what you've been up to." He left the pictures  
hanging up to dry and left the darkroom.  
  
Lector picture up a phone and from memory dialed the number of the FBI  
switchboard. "Hello, my name is Richard Cairns. I work in Senator  
Graham's office, and I was wondering if you could give me the number  
for Agent Fox Mulder? My authorization number? Certainly, it's  
530025759," Lector read the number off of a card. It had been so nice  
of Mr. Cairns to write the number down, and then tell his office that  
he'd be taking a week off to visit a sick friend in Baltimore. Of  
course people often are very nice after they've been threatened with  
having their flesh removed an in at a time. "I'm sorry, what  
department did you say?" Lector asked the operator, "The X*Files?   
And the number?" Lector copied the number onto a piece of paper.   
"You wouldn't happen to have his cell phone number to would you?   
Splendid. Thank you very much for your time." Lector hung the phone  
up and sighed. It was a shame Clarice wasn't available. He was  
curious as to what these X*Files were, and he couldn't call on Agent  
Mulder until he knew. Which meant he had to use that infernal  
contraption called a computer to find out. Like most men his age  
Lector distrusted computers. They lacked the soul found in the  
written word. Still he had to admit they had their uses. He logged  
into a law enforcement website using an access code Clarice had given  
him and did a search on X*Files.  
  
"My, my," he said to the screen, "Agent Mulder, you certainly have  
chosen an interesting line of work."  
  
*FBI HQ, 2:43pm*  
  
"You never told me you'd met Lector," Scully said as soon as they got  
on the elevator.  
  
Mulder shrugged, "There's not much to tell, it was during his  
incarceration. Crawford took me along on an interview shortly after I  
joined BSU."  
  
"Why would he do that?" Scully wondered.  
  
"It was an initiation ritual. Crawford felt that if you sit through a  
session with Doctor Lector and not crack up then you could hack it in  
BSU."  
  
"I take it you didn't crack up," Scully observed.  
  
"Well no then. Actually I found the whole thing funny."  
  
Scully arched an eyebrow, "Funny?"  
  
"Well yeah, the way a spook house is funny. You start out with  
Chilton giving you the 'His heart rate never exceeded 90; even when he  
ate her tongue,' speech. Then you had the trip down to the cell while  
they told you the rules, the heavily armed orderly station, the long  
walk past all the other inmates, Lector couldn't be held near the  
door. And finally, the good doctor himself. I think Lector was in on  
it with Crawford."  
  
"Why? I thought Lector didn't like Crawford."  
  
"Oh he didn't, but this was a chance to mess with someone's head, and  
Hannibal never passed up a chance to do that."  
  
"And you found that funny?"  
  
"It was all so over the top that it bordered on the ridiculous."  
  
"So what was Lector like?"  
  
Mulder shrugged, "I don't know, he was too busy playing 'Hannibal the  
Cannibal.' The important thing about Lector is that everything he  
tells you is a lie, after some fashion. Did you know he forged most  
of his background? His whole existence is gear towards destroying  
your mind and he tailors his approach for each victim."  
  
"I didn't know you were such an expert on Lector," Scully quipped, a  
little nervous about discovering this side of her partner.  
  
"I'd like to think that outside of two or three people I know Lector  
better than anyone else in the world." The elevator door opened and  
Mulder stepped off followed closely by Scully.  
  
"Ok, so my question would be why?" Scully asked as she stepped in  
Mulder's path.  
  
"Because I believe in being prepared," Mulder said as he stepped  
around his partner and opened the door to his office.  
  
"Isn't that taking things to the extreme?" Scully asked as she  
followed Mulder into the office.  
  
"Since when do I do things in moderation?"  
  
"Becoming an expert on Hannibal Lector? That's a bit much, even for  
you."  
  
"You didn't meet him," Mulder said quietly. The phone on Mulder's  
desk rang and he picked up the receiver. "Mulder."  
  
"Hello Agent Mulder," The quiet, cultured voice of Hannibal Lector  
said from the other end of the line. "It's been a long time."  
  
"Uh yeah, it sure has," Mulder said as he grabbed a pen and pad of  
paper off of his desk. "So what have you been up to?"  
  
"I think you know that."  
  
"Now how do you know that? You always hated psychics," He wrote  
"Trace this call," on the pad and held it up for Scully to see.  
  
"Really Fox, you used to be so much more subtle. I saw you in  
Maryland."  
  
"The old man on the park bench, right, you're slipping Hannibal."   
Scully's eyes widened as she spoke on her cell phone.  
  
"And yet, here I am, and there you are. By the way you don't need to  
bother with a trace on this call. I'm in Baltimore, 112 West Rogers  
Street, Apartment 14. Not that it matters, I'll be long gone by the  
time the police arrive."  
  
"Sure about that are you?" Mulder asked as he held the address up for  
Scully to see.  
  
"I just wanted to call you and ask one simple question. We can talk  
about your X*Files later."  
  
"What exactly is Prufrock about? Don't answer that now, thinking  
about it. I'll call back. Give my regards to your partner. And  
Fox?"  
  
"Yes?"  
"I haven't forgotten my promise. Ta*ta." The line went red.  
  
Mulder hung the phone up and checked his tape recorder to make sure it  
had recorded the conversation. "I guess I was right," he commented to  
his stunned partner.  
  
*AD Skinner's office, 3:52 PM*  
  
"I haven't forgotten my promise." Skinner turned off the tape player  
and looked at the small group sitting around the table in his office.   
"Ok people, it looks like Agent Mulder was correct and Hannibal Lector  
is back."  
  
"How did he get Agent Mulder's number?" One of the agents asked.  
  
"The switch board confirms that a Richard Cairns called asking for the  
number; he had the proper authorization so the number was provided."  
  
"The man's dead," Mulder interjected.  
  
"How do you know for sure?" Another agent asked.  
  
Mulder fixed the man with an icy stare. "Because Agent Morales,  
Lector hates loose ends. He got the information he needed from Cairns  
and then killed him. Check nearby quarries for the body."  
  
"How could you possibly know that?" Morales protested.  
  
Mulder rubbed his forehead in frustration, "That's where the body is,  
alright?"  
  
Skinner picked up his phone, "Call around to all the quarries in the  
DC or Baltimore area and see if any of them have found a body," he  
hung the phone up.  
  
"When do we go to Baltimore?" Mulder asked.  
  
"We are going shortly," Skinner replied, "You are staying here. As of  
this moment you're going back to the X*Files."  
  
"What?" Mulder exclaimed.  
  
"Mulder you've got Hannibal Lector calling you up. If you think I'm  
going to let you work on this case you must think I'm crazier than he  
is."   
  
"But I'm the person best quipped to track Lector down."  
  
"There are plenty of smart people over in Quantico Mulder."  
  
"They're not in Lector's league and you know it," Mulder shot back.  
  
Scully put a hand on Mulder's arm. "Maybe this isn't such a bad idea.  
Lector seems to have it in for you, and the best place you should be  
is somewhere else.  
  
"Look, if Lector is after me then the safest place to be is chasing  
him. Besides, Lector expects me to take part in the investigation."  
  
"And goodness knows we have to do what he asks," Morales quipped. The  
rest of the table chuckled.  
  
"If I'm on the case then Lector will stay in touch with me. That  
presents opportunities to trap him. Or at least guess what his next  
move will be. He won't do that if he doesn't think I'm in the game."  
  
"So what you're saying is that you want to be used as bait?" Skinner  
asked.  
  
Mulder nodded, "Something like that yes,"  
  
"Skinner shook his head, "It's too risky. Take the time as a chance  
to get caught up on your paperwork."  
  
"Sir," Mulder began to protest.  
  
"I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Fine, but every person that psychopath kills while I'm sitting on my  
hands will be on your head!" Mulder stood up and stormed out of the  
office.  
  
Scully also stood up," The meeting's not over," Skinner said sternly.  
  
"I know that sir," Scully replied, she did not return to her seat.  
  
"This is for his own good."  
  
"I know that sir," Scully did not look at Skinner.  
  
The assistant director sighed, "Fine, it's your career." Scully  
nodded and walked out of the office.  
  
"Spooky has got to be nailing her," Morales said to the agent next to  
him. "Why else would she walk out of this case?"  
  
"It's called loyalty to your partner, a concept I hope isn't totally  
foreign to you," Skinner said tersely. "Now can we get back to the  
matter at hand? This isn't the time for gossip. Or would you like to  
explain to the press what the FBI was doing instead of looking for Dr.  
Lector?" Morales sunk into his chair, and did not reply. "Okay then,  
moving alongÉ"  
  
*Office of the X*Files, 4:11 PM*  
  
Scully walked into the office and found Mulder rummaging through a  
storage cabinant. "Mulder, what are you doing?"  
  
"Looking for my camera."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So I can take pictures of sunsets. Why, what do you think I'm doing?"  
  
"I think you're about to drive to Baltimore, even though Skinner told  
you not to."  
  
Mulder paused, and smiled at Scully, "there is that too," he admitted.  
  
"Mulder, no, you're not."  
  
Scully, yes, I am."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Because somebody has to stop Lector and it's not going to be the boys  
and girls in Quantico," Mulder snapped.  
  
"What is it about Lector that has you so worked up?" Scully asked.   
"The only other times I've seen you like this have involved your  
sisterÉ" Scully paused, "You don't think Lector had anything to do  
with your sister?"  
  
"No, of course not. I checked, Lector was nowhere near Massachusetts  
at the time. It's just, I know Lector, and what he's capable of, and  
that sort of person has to be stopped." Mulder took a camera out of  
the storage cabinet and placed it inside of a duffel bag. "Well  
Scully, are you in or out?"  
  
"You are not going to Baltimore," Scully insisted.  
  
"Why not? It's probably the safest place in the country. There's no  
way Lector is still there, not after telling me the address. Come on  
Scully if Lector is after me do you think it's safe here?"  
  
"And what if it's a trap?" Scully shot back. "If Lector really is as  
clever as you say he is wouldn't he anticipate that you'd feel safe  
going where he's been?" Hunting the hunter."  
  
Mulder frowned, "That's possible, but even so, I can't let the threat  
of Lector keep me from my job."  
  
"And your job is the X-Files, not capturing Hannibal Lector," Scully  
said, scolding her partner.  
  
"That's where you're wrong Scully. I have to capture Lector, for  
Clarice if nothing else," he added.  
  
"Ok, what haven't you told me about you and Agent Starling?"  
  
"I'll tell you in the car."  
  
"Who says I'm going with you?"  
  
"You want to know about me and Agent Starling, don't you?"  
  
"You're trying to get me fired aren't you," Scully accused her  
partner.  
  
"Well, are you coming or not?"  
  
Scully sighed and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. "Someone has to  
keep you out of trouble."  
  
"Don't worry, we'll be back before Skinner even knows we're gone."   
Mulder opened the office door, and nearly walked into Skinner who was  
standing in the entryway. "Uh sir, what brings you down here?"  
  
"How did you know?" Skinner demanded.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"Richard Cairns, how did you know where his body was?"  
  
"So he was found?"  
  
Skinner nodded, "Earlier today the Maryland State Police pulled a body  
matching Cairns' description out of a quarry. So how did you know?   
Did he tell you?"  
  
Mulder shook his head, "No, he didn't tell me. Like I said, I know  
Lector." He stared at Skinner, "And I'm going to Baltimore."  
  
"Mulder, I'm not as dense as you might think. Did it ever occur to  
you that I want you to work on this case outside of the Task Force?"  
  
"Then what was that up in your office?" Scully asked.  
  
"That was politics, wasn't it Walter?"  
  
"We all know you don't work well with others, I did you a favor by  
removing you from the Task Force."  
  
"But what happens when people start to question why Mulder's  
investigating the case?"  
  
"Then I'll tell them that you two are doing some legwork for me I'll  
take the heat for Mulder being in the field, though your little  
demonstration today should placate the powers that be somewhat."  
  
"Lector is going to call me again," Mulder observed.  
  
"I'm counting on it."  
  
"So I am going to be bait."  
  
"No offense Mulder, but you're the juiciest worm we have right now."  
  
"Then I guess I'd better wiggle for all I'm worth," Mulder quipped.  
  
"Mulder!" Scully snapped, horrified at her partner's flippancy.  
  
"Relax Agent Scully, I'll have a team of agents keeping an eye on  
Mulder to make sure that Lector doesn't try anything."  
  
"No," Mulder said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"No surveillance, Lector would spot it in an instant, and I won't wear  
a wire. Scully can keep me safe enough," Mulder paused, "Besides  
having a team of agents following me around would blow your cover."  
  
"Fine, no surveillance, just don't end up dead," Skinner admonished,  
"And that goes for both of you. Now get moving, the train's going  
cold."  
  
*112 West Rogers Street, Baltimore, 6:24 PM*  
  
Mulder parked their Bureau car next to the apartment building Lector  
claimed to call from. The building itself was an old factory that a  
developer had converted into an apartment building.  
  
"It's not exactly the nicest neighborhood," Scully commented as she  
took in the piles of garbage, and homeless men huddled under a  
doorway.  
  
"It's all a show," Mulder replied, "Check it out there are  
surveillance cameras everywhere and one of those bums is wearing an  
earpiece. He's probably with the security company the developer  
contracts."  
  
"Give the tenants the illusion of living in the ghetto?"  
  
"Something like that," Mulder replied. He took out his badge and  
walked over to a Baltimore PD cruiser. He rapped on the car's  
passenger window with his badge to get the attention of the officers  
inside. "Hi there," he said when the window rolled down, "Special  
Agent Fox Mulder, FBI."  
  
"I'm Officer Reed, this is Officer Secor. You here about the  
apartment?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"Waste of time, nobodies home," Secor said and the two cops got out  
their patrol car.  
  
"I expected as much," Mulder admitted, "Who's renting the apartment?"  
  
Reed looked at his notebook, "According to the super a Thomas Stearns  
Elliott." Mulder chuckled, "What's so funny about that?" Reed asked.  
  
"Because it's a fake name."  
  
"How do you knowÉ" Secor started to ask.  
  
"It's the full name of T.S. Elliott," the two cops stared at Mulder,  
"the poet," he added, "Waste Land, Hollow Men, Love Song of J. Alfred  
Prufrock, any of those ring a bell?"  
  
Reed shook his head, "Sorry, no."  
  
"Doesn't matter, I know the tenent's real name," Mulder insisted.  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"I can't say, restricted information. Now can I have the keys to the  
place?"  
  
Secor sighed and pulled a keyring out of his pocket, "here you go," he  
handed the ring to Mulder.  
  
"Great, and is the super in?"  
  
"Yeah, we told him not to disappear."  
  
"Wonderful, I'll give these back when I'm done with them."  
  
"Whatever," Secor grumbled as the two cops got back into their  
cruiser.  
  
Mulder walked back to where Scully was standing. "See, I can deal  
with local law enforcement diplomatically."  
  
"Mulder, those two were ready to kill you."  
  
Mulder shrugged, "It's not my fault they don't know who TS Elliot is.   
Come on, do you want to start with the apartment or the building  
super?"  
  
Scully thought for a moment, "The super," she concluded, "he might  
know something for us to look for in the apartment."  
  
  
"Ok then, let's talk to the super." They walked up to the door of the  
apartment building, "After you," Mulder told his partner as he held  
the door open.  
  
The interior of the building was neat and very modern. The foyer was  
lit with bright incandescent builds. Mulder pointed to the security  
cameras. "Definitely a place for the paranoid."  
  
"Bright lights to reduce shadows, armored front door, guard station,"  
Scully said as she appraised the room.  
  
"And here comes the guard," Mulder added.  
  
"Can I help you?" A large man dressed in a light gray suit asked the  
pair.  
  
Mulder held out his badge, "I'm special Agent Fox Mulder, this is my  
partner Special Agent Dana Scully."  
  
"Lovely, why are you here?"  
  
"We're here to search the apartment of the tenant claiming to be  
Thomas Stearns Elliott," Mulder told the guard.  
  
"And do you have a warrant?"  
  
"As a matter we do," Scully replied and handed a piece of paper to the  
doorman.  
  
The guard read the warrant then gave it back to Scully, "That don't  
say anything about Mr. Elliott."  
  
"But it's Mr. 'Elliott's" apartment, correct?"  
  
"I'm not at liberty to say."  
  
"Why are you being evasive?" Scully demanded, "It's a simple question.  
Don't you know who he really is?"  
  
"No I don't, we pride ourselves on our respect for the tenants'  
privacy. Besides, he's a friend of Mr. Orlando, the building's owner,  
that's all I need to know."  
  
Mulder examined the guard, "You're not from around here are you?"  
  
"What?" the guard asked, taken aback by Mulder's question.  
  
"You didn't grow up in Baltimore, I can tell from your accent."  
  
"Oh yeah, I grew up in Jersey, so?"  
  
Mulder started to walk around the guard. "My partner and I were just  
talking about how you can tell a lot about a person based on their  
mannerisms."  
  
"Is that so?" the guard asked rhetorically as he crossed his arms.  
  
"By the way, I really hope that gun's registered," Mulder commented.  
  
The guard placed a hand on the distinctive bulge under his left arm,  
"Of course, it is illegal to carry an unlicensed firearm."  
  
"Right," Mulder said, unconvinced.  
  
"Look, I'm a busy man, get to the point."  
  
"My point is that we're not with the organized grime task force. We  
work for the Behavioral Science Unit, you know what that investigates  
right?" The guard nodded, "Good, now then, Mr. 'Elliott's' real name  
is Hannibal Lector, you know who he is, right?"  
  
The guard's face turned ashen, "Yeah, I know know who he is," he  
stammered.  
  
"Excellent, now my partner and I are going to search Dr. Lector's  
apartment, but first, what did Dr. Lector do to earn Mr. Orlando's,  
that's Robert Orlando right?" The guard nodded, "What did he do to  
earn your boss' trust?"  
  
"All Mr. Orlando said was that Mr. Elliott solved a problem for him I  
don't know nothing about Mr. Elliot being Hannibal Lector."  
  
"That's what I figured. We're going to search Dr. Lector's apartment  
now. Unless you don't have any other objections."  
  
"Just remember, that warrant is for Mr. Elliott's apartment only, so  
don't go snooping around," the mob enforcer admonished the two agents.  
  
"I don't care what you're doing in this building, all I want is Dr.  
Lector, so you'd better not get in my way," Mulder growled.  
  
"Right," the mob enforcer said, chuckling to himself. He walked into  
the guard station and pushed the door buzzer. "Do what you have to  
then get the hell out of here."  
  
"It's been a pleasure talking to you," Mulder told the guard as he and  
Scully walked through the door. "Well that was enlightening," he said  
to his partner once they were out of earshot.  
  
"Hannibal Lector and the mob, it sounds like something out of a cheesy  
movie," Scully commented.  
  
"Actually, it's not that hard to believe, Lector enjoyed treating  
fringe types, and who knows who he met, or what he did, while he was  
in Italy."  
  
"Makes you wonder what sort of problem he solved," Scully thought  
aloud as she pushed the elevator's call button.  
  
"He killed somebody." The elevator dinged as its doors opened.  
  
"Murder for hire? That doesn't seem like Lector's style," Scully  
countered after they entered the elevator.  
  
"What do we know about the body dumped on the beach?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Not much, Skinner sent a team to Missouri to do a background check."   
Scully fell silent for a moment. Mulder could see the pieces fall  
into place in her head. "You think the victim on the beach had mob  
ties?"  
  
"If you were a mob boss looking to make a problem go away wouldn't you  
hire a notorious signature killer?" Mulder pushed the button for the  
second floor.  
  
"Weren't we going to see the building super?" Scully asked when they  
passed the first floor.  
  
"Do you think he'd be any more helpful than the goon downstairs?   
Everybody here works for the mob, what's the use?"  
  
The elevator came to a stop and the agents stepped off. "Ok, I can  
see why the mob boss would be interested, but why Lector? I would  
have thought he'd find assassinations crass."  
  
"Underneath all the fancy trappings Lector is a very practical person.  
Look at what his favor got him." Mulder indicated the lavishly  
appointed hallway they were walking down. Fine works of art lined the  
walls. The deep carpeting muffled their footfalls.  
  
"What is this place?" Scully asked after a while.  
  
"Safe house," Mulder said definitively, "There's surveillance all over  
the place. They probably used the renovations as a money laundering  
scheme. I wonderÉ" Mulder trailed off.  
  
"Mulder, what?"  
  
"We're at the apartment," Mulder said in an attempt to change the  
subject. He took the room key out of his pocket. "Ready?" He asked  
Scully who slid her gun out of its holder before nodding. Mulder took  
a deep breath and opened the door.  
  
Scully ducked under the police tape stretched across the door and  
entered the room with Mulder following close behind. The apartment  
itself was sparsely appointed. The walls were bare and the furniture  
was utilitarian. "I thought lector liked the finer things in life,"  
Scully whispered.  
  
"He does," Mulder replied.  
  
"Then why all this?"  
  
"He also spent eight years living in a mental institute, maybe he's  
just sued to not having many possessions," Mulder whispered in reply.   
"Besides he knew he was going to have to abandon this place, why  
invest much in it?"  
  
"Hey Mulder," Scully said after a few moments.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Why are we whispering?" We know Lector's not here."  
  
Mulder paused, "Do we?"  
  
"Come on Mulder, the police have already searched the apartment."  
  
"Just like how the Memphis police were sure they had Lector cornered  
in that elevator?" Mulder asked.  
  
Scully tightened her grip on her gun, "Then why the hell are we here  
without backup?"  
  
"Because," Mulder said as he holstered his gun, "Lector isn't here."  
  
"Isn't that what I just said?"  
  
"Yes, it is," Mulder admitted, "but there was no way of knowing for  
sure until now," Mulder walked over to the dining room table, "Hand me  
an evidence bag please, he left us a letter." Scully gave Mulder a  
bag and he gently slid the loose sheet of paper into the bag. "Why  
don't I check the kitchen and you take the bedroom." Scully nodded  
and walked down the hall, away from Mulder.  
  
Mulder entered the kitchen and casually looked in the drawers and  
cabinets. The kitchen was spotless; Mulder had seen operating rooms  
that were dirtier. He took special care in examining the cutlery, but  
it too was in pristine condition. Mulder slid a large butcher's knife  
back into its resting place and moved onto the refrigerator. The  
stainless steel refrigerator was filled with expensive gourmet foods.   
He nook note of the various brands, there weren't that many places  
that sold the high*end food Lector preferred. Mulder's stomach  
rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast.  
  
"Anybody but Lector and I'd dig in," he mused. Eating food out of a  
suspect's refrigerator might be frowned upon, but it wasn't evidence  
and it would just get thrown out. However, Mulder did not want to  
take the chance that Lector might be using one of the containers to  
store his leftovers. Mulder sighed then closed the refrigerator.   
Lector had been here, that much was obvious, but he hadn't left  
anything behind, except for his beluga caviar. "Maybe Scully is  
having better luck in the bedroomÉ" he winced at his choice of words.  
"Ok, don't say that in front of Scully."  
  
Mulder returned to the dining room and found Scully waiting for him.   
"Find anything?" She asked her partner.  
  
"Just some food in the fridge, how about you?"  
  
"There's a computer in the bedroom, and he had a darkroom set up in  
spare bedroom. I found these." She held up a pair of black and white  
photographs of Mulder and Scully outside the police station earlier  
that day.  
  
Mulder took the photos from Scully and examined them. "you know, for  
a homicidal madman he really captured my good side, don't you think?"  
  
"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, horrified at her partner's flippancy.  
  
Mulder tossed the pictures onto the dining room table. "What? It's  
not like it's a big surprise; Lector was there this morning. He told  
me as much on the phone. This is just another mind game, like the  
poems. He's trotting out all these clichŽs toÉ" his voice trailed  
off.  
  
"To what?" Scully prompted.  
  
Mulder sighed, "That I don't know," he shrugged. "Scully, the bed,  
was t made?"  
  
"What?" Scully asked, confused by the sudden shift.  
  
"Lector's bed, was it made?"  
  
"Yes, it was, why does that matter?"  
  
"Lector was here, but he didn't live hereÉ"  
  
"How can you be sure of that?"  
  
"You said it yourself when we walked through the door."  
  
"Ok, assuming you're right, that means what, that he wants to show us  
something?" Scully picked up a photo, "That he knows what we're  
doing?"  
  
"That could be it," Mulder said, sounding unconvinced. He could feel  
the answer bouncing around in his back of his mind; but every time he  
tried to focus on it, the thought evaded him.  
  
Scully looked around the bare apartment and involuntarily shuddered.   
"Could we get the hell out of here, this place is giving me the  
creeps." Mulder nodded slowly, "Yeah, there isn't anything else to  
learn here. WE can have a team from Quantico gather the evidence."   
Mulder walked towards the apartment door.  
  
"Hey Mulder," Scull called out, "What did Lector's note say?"  
  
Mulder turned and shrugged, "I don't know, I haven't read it yet." He  
opened the door. "This didn't seem like the right place." He told  
his partner as he walked out of the apartment.  
  
"And just where is the right place?" Scully muttered to herself while  
following Mulder out of the apartment. "So now what?" She asked  
after she caught up with Mulder in front of the elevator.  
  
"NowÉ" Mulder looked around the hallway. "Now I need pie." Mulder  
pushed the elevator call button.  
  
"You need what?" Scully asked in disbelief.  
  
"Pie," Mulder answered, without elaborating further.  
  
"Pie?" Scully echoed.  
  
"Pie."  
  
"Mulder, are you sureÉ" Scully started to say.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, I just feel like eating some pie."  
  
"Okay, fine, but whenever you start binging on pie weirdness ensues."  
  
"This has nothing to do with Lord Kimbote. I just think some pie will  
help with the thought process." He surreptitiously pointed at the  
ceiling.  
  
It took Scully a few moments to figure out what Mulder was doing. She  
finally looked in the indicated direction and saw a small surveillance  
camera peeking out of the ceiling. After that the pieces fell into  
place quickly for her. "Oh right, pie. Yes, you do need Pie Mulder,  
and I think I could stand a slice myself." She sighed, it seemed the  
only constant in her life these days was someone spying on her.   
Mulder would say that was the price of pursuing the truth, and Scully  
understood that. But at times it bothered her. Especially on a case  
like this one. So far Mulder seemed to be handling things, but Scully  
had no idea how long that would last. What would Mulder do when he  
got into Lector's head? Could Mulder even do that? Scully didn't  
know, but was ready for the worst. "Or maybe not," Scully thought to  
herself as they walked out of the apartment building. "Maybe Mulder  
can stay objective and won't get too involvedÉ" Scully then remembered  
something that had been bothering her all afternoon. "Mulder?" she  
asked while they were talking towards their car.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What did Lector promise you?"  
  
Mulder came to a stop, "Pecan."  
  
"He promised you a pecan?"  
  
"No, that's the pie I'm getting, a whole pecan pie. This is going to  
take a while."  
  
*Ray's Diner, 8:09 PM*  
  
Mulder held the diner door open for Scully and the partners slid into  
a nearby booth. Before Scully could say anything a waitress walked up  
to them.  
  
"Welcome to Ray's. What can I get the two of you?"  
  
"Do you have any pecan pie?" Mulder asked.  
  
"We sure do," the waitress, a middle*aged woman whose nametag read  
"Anne" replied. "Do you want a slice?"  
  
"Actually we'd like a whole pie," Mulder said pleasantly.  
  
"A whole pecan pie, alright, anything else?  
  
"A pot of coffee, please," Scully added.  
  
"A whole pecan pie and a pot of coffee." The waitress shook her head.  
"It'll be right up." She tucked her pen back into her apron and  
walked towards the kitchen.  
  
"She thinks we're on drugs," Mulder commented.  
  
"What did he promise you Mulder?" Scully demanded.  
  
"Let's wait for the pie, this isn't something I want people to  
overhear."  
  
"Scully saw that she had no choice but to accept this so neither one  
of them said a word until Anne returned with their coffee and pie.  
  
"Here you go, one pecan pie, and one pot of coffee."  
  
Mulder handed her a pair of bills, "Keep the change, and we don't b  
needing anything else."  
  
"Sure thing hon," Anne said before walking over to another booth.  
  
Mulder cut himself a slice of pie and took a bite, "Oh, this is good,"  
he said before taking another bite.  
  
"What did he promise you?" Scully asked again.  
  
Mulder put his fork down and sighed, "Nobody else knows this, but I  
did see Lector one other time."  
  
Scully stared at Mulder in surprise, "What? Why isn't that in the  
file?"  
  
"Because it was an off the record visit."  
  
"Why on earth?"  
  
"Crawford told me to. It was a couple of months before Buffalo Bill.   
He thought that maybe I could get Lector to open up about a few  
things. So he told me to go talk to Lector."  
  
"Why does this sound familiar?" Scully asked rhetorically.  
  
"Where do you think Crawford got the idea?" Mulder said. "Lector  
didn't get the chance to meet many people back then so he enjoyed the  
chance to pick through the head of someone he didn't know." Mulder  
poured himself a cup of coffee. "Crawford thought something might  
slip in the process."  
  
"Did anything?"  
  
Mulder shook his head, "Not really, Crawford was a good man, but he  
wasn't in Lector's league."  
  
"And you are?" Scully asked. She arched an eyebrow for emphasis.  
  
Mulder shrugged, "That's what we're going to find out."  
  
"What did you talk to Lector about?" Scully asked, trying to force  
Mulder back on topic.  
  
"It wasn't what you think it was. I know better than that."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"My career, cases, stuff like that. Everything but Lector's crimes.   
He didn't like to talk about those, unless it suited his purposes."  
  
"Everything he says is a lie," Scully recited.  
  
"Exactly," Mulder took another bite of pie. "This really is good pie,  
are you sure you don't want a slice?"  
  
Scully was about to refuse when her stomach rumbled, reminding her how  
long it had been since her last meal. "Oh fine, I'll have some."   
Mulder cut a slice and gave it to Scully. "Now stop stalling. What  
did Lector promise you?"  
  
Mulder stared at his coffee cup before replying. "he said he liked  
me, that I was the best he'd seen since Will Graham, and that with his  
help I could be the best profiler everÉ" He took a deep breath; he  
knew Scully wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "He also  
said that if I ever tried to catch him he'd kill me."  
  
Scully dropped her fork. "He said he'd kill you?" Scully exclaimed,  
causing several heads to turn and face the FBI agents. She blanched  
slightly at the attention her outburst garnered. "He said he'd kill  
you?" She said again, more quietly.  
  
"Actually he said that one of us would end up dead, and that he  
intended to die from old age." Mulder vividly remembered that moment  
all those years ago. He was sitting on an ancient folding chair in  
the dank basement that housed Lector. He remembered thinking it was  
strange that this almost medieval looking dungeon was buried inside a  
modern city.  
  
"You're a smart man Fox," Lector had told him.  
  
"Is that so," Mulder replied, fighting down his apprehension.   
Crawford had insisted that Mulder see Lector. He claimed it would  
help Mulder track down other killers.  
  
"Yes, and feel flattered," Lector continued, "It's not something I  
tell mamy people," he paused for a moment, "I compare them to myself."  
  
"You'll have to pardon me if I don't get all giddy about being  
complimented by a madman."  
  
Lector chuckled, "Ah Fox, you do have a sharp tongue. I suggest you  
work on controlling it better."  
  
Mulder leaned back in his chair, "Or what, you'll eat my tongue? You  
did that for Chilton's benefit didn't you?"  
  
"Fox, that's such an unusual name for a person," Lector said, as if  
he hadn't heard Mulder. "Especially for you. Some might even say  
it's ironic that Crawford's newest hound is named Fox." Mulder did  
not reply. "That's all you are of course, and that's why you're here;  
to get the scent. So he can use you better."  
  
Mulder stood up, "That's all I need to know; thank*you for your time,  
Hannibal."  
  
Lector smiled, "It's been my pleasure Fox, but before you go please  
remember two things."  
  
"And they are?" Mulder snapped. His nerves had been grayed by the  
interview.  
  
"The first is that never for one moment think that Crawford cares  
about you as anything more than a tool. He'll use you until you break  
then throw you away. The second is that if Crawford ever sends you  
out to track me down one of us will end up dead; and I don't intend on  
being killed by an FBI Agent."  
  
"That assumes you get out of here," Mulder shot back as he walked  
away. Mulder recalled that Lector did not say anything in response,  
he just smiled.  
  
"Mulder," Scully said, trying to get her partner's attention. "Hey,  
Mulder!" she said again, this time more forcefully.  
  
"What?" Mulder asked, forcing his mind back into the present.  
  
"I was trying to ask you a question."  
  
"Sorry, was just appreciating how good this pie is," he replied before  
shoving a forkful into his mouth. He could see that Scully was  
unconvinced, "So what was your question?"  
  
"Mu question," Scully said deliberately, "is how do you know he meant  
it? Didn't you say that everything he says is a lie?"  
  
"Scully, if a compulsive liar tells you he always lies, is he telling  
you the truth?"  
  
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Scully protested.  
  
"Lector wraps his lies around a kernel of truth. He doesn't want to  
got back to his dungeon and he'll do whatever it takes to remain  
free."  
  
"And with Lector that covers a lot of ground, right?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"But wouldn't he say the same thing to anyone in that case?"  
  
"Why do you think I'm not freaking out?" Mulder said with a chuckle.   
"I never gave Lector's bluster much credenceÉuntil today that is."  
  
"Because now you ware trying to catch him," Scully deduced. "So  
doesn't that mean he's going to be coming after you?"  
  
Mulder shook his head, "I don't know why exactly he's back, but I  
don't think it's a deliberate plot to get me." Mulder's cell phone  
rang. "Mulder," he barked into the phone.  
  
"Well Fox, are you in or out?" Lector asked without preamble.  
  
Scully could see Mulder's hand tighten its grip on the phone. "I'm  
in," he replied.  
  
"Excellent, then I recommend that you and your lovely partner visit  
Number 34 Matthews Street in Baltimore, I've left you a present."   
Lector hung up before Mulder could reply.  
  
Mulder returned his phone to his pocket. "come on Scully, we've got  
to go." He stood up.  
  
"that was Lector wasn't it," Scully demanded. "What did he want?"  
  
Mulder sighed, "He wants us to visit his next victim, he gave me the  
address."  
  
"Shouldn't we call Skinner, at least the local police for some  
backup?"  
  
Mulder looked pensive for a moment as he considered what Scully said.   
He eventually shook his head. "There's no time, besides Lector won't  
be there, this is about a presentation, not an ambush." He paused.   
"Plus I want to be the first person there, maybe I'll see something  
the police might miss."  
  
Scully sighed, she could tell she wasn't going to win this battle.   
"Alright, fine, let's go." She stood up and they walked out of the  
diner, leaving a half*eaten pie sitting on the table.  
  
*34 Matthews Street, 9:36 PM*  
  
The house on 34 Matthews Street was two*story brownstone tucked in a  
prosperous*looking neighborhood. Mulder and Scully sat in their car  
and surveyed the house. There were no lights on that they could see.   
The lawn was mowed and the bed of flowers that ran along the front of  
the house looked well tended to.  
  
"Are you sure Lector isn't playing games with us?" Scully asked.   
"This might be a false alarm just to see if we'll jump through hoops."  
  
Mulder shook his head, "It's too soon for that, he first has to get  
our attention. He stared at the house. "There's a woman strangled  
with a shawl lying on a table in there," he suddenly said before  
getting out of the car.  
  
Scully sighed and followed Mulder up to the house. As she neared the  
front door she drew her service pistol. Out of the corner of her eye  
she saw Mulder do the same. Scully found herself hoping that none of  
the neighbors called the police on them. They came to a stop at the  
front door.  
  
Mulder reached for the doorbell, but stopped and instead pounded on  
the door. "never hurts to be careful," he explained to Scully as they  
waited for a response. "Doesn't look like anyone's home," Mulder  
commented when no one answered the door. He tried turning the  
doorknob and the door swung open. Mulder looked at Scully and  
shrugged. He took a flashlight out of his pocket and walked into the  
house. Scully took a deep breath before following him inside.  
  
The interior of the house was much like the exterior, very neat and  
well furnished. Scully's attention was caught by a collection of  
framed three by five photographs occupying one shelf of an overfilled  
bookshelf. From what Scully could see the pictures were the only  
personalized items in the room. She examined the photos and saw that  
they were all pictures of groups of people. There were no pictures of  
individuals, nothing to suggest the owner of the house had a family or  
any other personal connections.  
  
"The perfect victim," Scully muttered to herself. She wondered if  
they'd find a collection of kinky sex toys, or some other indicator of  
a hidden life, or if the person truly was a non*entity. It was her  
experience that the odds were just about fifty*fifty either way.  
  
"Hey Scully, over here," Mulder called out from another room.  
  
Scully walked through an open doorway into what looking like a dining  
room. "What is it?" She asked her partner before fully taking stock  
of the room.  
  
"On the table," Mulder quietly replied. Scully shone her flashlight  
on the table in the middle of the room. Lying on the table, covered   
by an ornate shawl, was the unmistakable profile of a body.  
  
Scully reached out with a gloved hand and tugged on the shawl, causing  
it to slid onto the floor and reveal the body of a young woman.   
Scully reflexively felt for a pulse.  
  
"Don't bother," Mulder said, "Lector doesn't leave survivors."  
  
Scully gave Mulder a disapproving look, "Call the police Mulder," she  
ordered before returning her attention to the body.  
  
Mulder shrugged an dialed 911 on his cell phone. "Hello, this is  
Special Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI. I'd like to report a murderÉ"  
  
*Westchester, MD 9:44 PM*  
  
Lector glanced at the clock on the wall of his kitchen. By his  
estimates Mulder should have found the body of the late Ms. Karen  
Trimble. Lector had treated her mother before his incarceration and  
he had been curious to see what affect the mother's eventual suicide  
had on the daughter. As he had expected the loss had driven the shy  
child even further into herself, to the point of near reclusion. A  
turn of events which only aided Lector when he was looking for his  
next victim. After all, the experiment in behavior modification  
through traumatic experiences was over, and loose ends were messy.  
  
He decided against calling Agent Mulder just then; "Let Fox mull the  
death of Ms. Trimble for a while," Lector thought. Besides Lector  
rather liked the house he was currently staying in and he did not want  
to do anything that might compromise it. Instead he poured himself a  
glass of wine and walking into the living room. He turned on his  
television and was disappointed to see that so far his exploits had  
not made CNN. It wasn't that Lector was looking for the notoriety,  
but a heavy media presence made the game that much more interesting.   
Plus the press was so easy to manipulate.  
  
"I think the Tattler could use a readership boot," Lector said to  
himself. He set the wineglass down and walked into the soundproofed  
basement.  
  
He turned the lights on and walked over to a bound and blindfolded  
man.  
  
The man heard Lector's footsteps, "Please, whoever you are, I'll do  
whatever it is you want, just let me go." The man pleaded, "If it's  
money you want I'll pay it. Please I have a familyÉ"  
  
Lector wrenched the blindfold off of the man's head. "Now, now Mr.  
Watson, not everything in life revolves around money." Watson  
recoiled when he saw Lector. "You see Mr. Watson, you have a very  
important part to play in a little game of mine."  
  
Mr. Watson began struggling against his bonds. "you're going to kill  
me as part of a game?" He asked, his voice a mixture of fear, anger,  
and incredulity.  
  
"Why yes, in the game of life and death you are but a pawn." Lector  
took a katana down from a display rack. "Do you know how sword smiths  
in medieval Japan used to test the sharpness of a newly forged blade?"  
Lector asked conversationally. "They would cut a silk handkerchief  
and if the blade didn't cut every thread cleanly they would re*forge  
it. Personally I prefer the way the samurai tested their new  
purchases," he smiled before continuing, "On nearby farm hands."   
Lector lowered the sword when he saw the terrified expression on his  
prisoner's face. "Oh come now Mr. Watson relax, this is your big  
chance to be famous. Your face will be on every news papers, ever  
news anchor will say your name. And I've heard that the Varger  
foundation has a established a very well financed trust for the  
families of my 'victims.' So you see Mr. Watson, your death will be  
the best thing for you, and your family."  
  
"The best thing for my family is me being with them you twisted son of  
a bitch!" Watson shouted.  
  
Lector sighed, "I suppose some people just won't see the truth." He  
swung the katana and Mr. Watson's head fell away from his body in a  
spurt of blood, and rolled slightly before coming to a stop in front  
of Lector. Lector took his time cleaning the sword, it was good  
steal, and you always take care of good steel. He picked the head up  
and placed it in a box marked, "Airborne Express." He then deposited  
the body in a chest freezer and cleaned up the blood using  
industrial*strength cleansers. Lector knew he would have to dispose  
of Mr. Watson's body soon, but for the time being the freezer would  
do.  
  
He carried the package with the head upstairs; it was a long drive to  
Chicago and he needed to deliver his package in time to make  
tomorrow's late edition.  
  
*FBI HQ, 8:52 AM*  
  
Scully walked into the office and found Mulder asleep at his desk.   
Without saying a word she placed a cup of coffee beside his head and  
then started to review the paperwork that had piled up while they were  
gone the previous day. She noted that the lab had finished its  
analysis of the peach. It was, as Mulder theorized, one of the most  
expensive varieties of peach, noted for its juiciness. She glanced  
over at her slumbering partner. Some might say that his ability to  
know that was spooky, but Scully knew better. Lector's penchant for  
gourmet foods was well documented, so of course he would use a gourmet  
peach. Similarly Mulder knew where to find Richard Cairnes by the  
main's name. A cairn was a pile of rocks, and Lector's fondness for  
such word games was equally well*known, even she had figured that out.  
There was nothing that Mulder did that defied logic, but Mulder was  
just that much better at interpreting a murder's actions.   
  
"And that's what makes the cases so dangerous," she mused as she read  
through the background information on the first victim. She knew the  
way a person could become obsessed with a case, especially when you  
were dealing with a person who was going to continue killer, and the  
only way to catch the killer was to think like the killer. In effect  
going a little crazy yourself. Scully had seen Mulder go to the brink  
on many occasions, and had been there herself more than once. She  
just hoped that Mulder could keep a grip on himself for this case.   
She would worry about the next one when it came up.  
  
The sound of the office door opening cause Scully to spin around; she  
reflexively reached for her pistol. When she saw Skinner enter the  
office she breathed a sigh of relief. "Good morning sir," she said  
quietly so as not to walk the still sleeping Mulder.  
  
"He never went home?" Skinner asked, nodding at Mulder.  
  
"Apparently not. When we got back from Baltimore he said he wanted to  
check a few things before going homeÉ"  
  
"How's he holding up?" The concern was evident in Skinner's voice.  
  
"Why don't you ask me?" Mulder said, his head still lying on the  
desk.  
  
"How long have you been up?" Scully demanded.  
  
Mulder sat up. "Since you came in," he replied as he straightened his  
tie.  
  
"They why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"Because I was trying to convince myself it was all a bad dream,"  
Mulder said into his coffee cup. "So what do you need sire?"  
  
"I need you two to go to Chicago, someone found a severed head in the  
Tattler's office."  
  
Mulder looked at Scully, "And who has a long and interesting history  
with the Tattler?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
"Exactly, not get going. I'll need you both back here for the press  
conference this afternoon" He paused, "The public relations office is  
having kittens over this."  
  
"You want us at the press conference?" Scully asked in disbelief.  
  
"No, I want you two to brief the attorney general, so she can in good  
conscious stand up and say we can catch Lector."  
  
"What if I don't think we can," Mulder queried.  
  
"Then the Attorney General will say that we can. Look I just got off  
the phone with her. We have to issue a statement and we have to sound  
positive. She wants to talk to the investigators to look more  
involved. Say what you want to her, it won't really matter."  
  
Mulder nodded, "When does our flight leave?"  
  
"As soon as you get to Andrews; you're flying on a Bureau jet today.   
And Mulder?"  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Take a shower before you leave, we want to make a good impression on  
the Tattler."  
  
Mulder snorted, "Like that's possible, whatever we do there is going  
to be distorted, twisted and for everyone to see on page one."  
  
"Mulder, go take a shower or I'm not flying on the same plane as you,"  
Scully ordered. She understood Skinner's concern, and she didn't want  
to see stories about the mad genius profiler the FBI was using to  
track Lector that the Tattler was sure to run if Mulder showed up  
looking like he'd slept in his suit.  
  
Mulder stood up, "Whose to say I wasn't going to?" he asked as he  
walked towards the door.  
  
Once Mulder was out of the office Skinner turned to face Scully.   
"Keep a short leash on Mulder, there are a lot of people watching this  
case, and it would be very bad if he cracks up."  
  
"No offense sir, but it's Hannibal Lector, of course 'people' are  
watching, it's a high profile case."  
  
Skinner sighed, "Just keep Mulder from embarrassing himself of the  
Bureau, ok?"   
  
"I always try sir."  
  
"Bring him back safe agent," Skinner admonished Scully as she left the  
office. For a moment he stood in the empty office staring at the  
wall. He stifled a curse and reached for his phone. "They're on  
their way to Chicago," he told the person on the other end of the  
line.  
  
*Washington DC, 10:39 AM*  
  
The room was dark with heavy shutters blocking out the morning sun.   
In the line of work of the room's occupant an open window was an  
invitation for a sniper round between the eyes. The room itself was  
sparse, with just a desk and two chairs. There was nothing to suggest  
anything about the occupant of the room, except for the swirling  
clouds of cigarette smoke which permeated everything. The phone rang,  
an aged hand reached out and picked up the receiver, "Hello?" the man  
known to some as "C.G.B. Spender" and to others simple as "The  
Cigarette*Smoking Man," rasped.  
  
"Why hello there 'CG' how good to hear your voice again," Lector said  
from the other end of the line.  
  
"Hannibal, what a pleasant surprise, what brings you back to the  
country?"  
  
"I won't mince words with you CG, I'm getting old, so I decided to  
settle a few old scores before slipping into the long darkness of  
senility."  
  
"Really now?" the Smoking Man paused to light a fresh Morley, "I  
wasn't aware that we had any outstanding business Hannibal." He  
exhaled a long plume of smoke.  
  
"Still smoking those foul Morley's CG? They'll be the death of you."  
  
A chuckle, "We're working on that."  
  
"I'm sure you are my dear CG, but no one can cheat death forever."  
  
"You're evading the question Hannibal, what business?"  
  
"Do you remember when we first met? It was back in the 70's. You  
said you were with the State Department and had some questions about  
behavioral predictions based on facial gestures. I knew you were  
lying, which made things all the more interesting."  
  
"Unlike you Hannibal I'm a busy man, get to the point."  
  
"How many of your colleagues did you refer to me? And how many of  
them wound up committing suicide?"  
  
"As I recall the number was three, and none of them were very valuable  
to the project."  
  
"Very good CG, very good indeed, and you're right, your colleagues  
were not very forthcoming. But as a result of our little 'chats' I  
developed a keen interest in alien abduction cases. A very  
interesting psychosis. Very illuminating."  
  
"And very unreliable."  
  
"True, most of them were beyond even my help. Their perception of  
reality was shattered beyond all repair. But it was strange, the  
techniques used on them was very terrestrial, and very familiar. It  
was almost as if I had mentioned them to someone, years before. Oh  
dear me, I forget that you are a busy man. I had one other client you  
might be interested in, William Mulder, and he was not shattered, nor  
was he just a cog in a wheel."  
  
"So what, Bill Mulder is dead, and who's going to believe you?"  
  
"And then, years later I met another Mulder, Crawford's Fox*hound.   
Isn't it odd that William Mulder's son joined the FBI? No, wait, it  
isn't. I know about Fox Mulder, what you wanted to do to him, what  
you did do to him. You really should have included me back then CG,  
fascinating work you're doing."  
  
"If you think telling Mulder the truth will stop him from chasing you  
down, you're sorely mistaken."  
  
"No, I'm going to kill Agent Mulder, I'm curious what that would be  
work to you?"  
  
The Cigarette*Smoking Man leaned back in his chair and smiled, "Murder  
for hire Hannibal? I never knew you were an assassin."  
  
"You misunderstand me, I'm not after money, I want information and  
access to one of your projects."  
  
"Well that certainly is something we can discuss; what did you have in  
mind?" The shadowy operative breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been in  
many life*threatening situations in his life, but Hannibal Lector was  
a new experience entirely. But if He could remove Mulder, that would  
be worth any request; especially if they could then remove Lector.  
  
*Tattler Building, Chicago, 11:42 PM*  
  
The Suburban driven by a field agent with the Chicago office came to a  
stop in front of the Tattler's office. When Scully got out of the  
SUV she noticed there already where several marked and unmarked police  
cars sitting alongside the curb. She, Mulder, and the local agent  
walked into the building; where they were met by a uniformed police  
officer.  
  
The Chicago agent handled the introductions, "Hi there, I'm Agent  
Craston, there are Special Agents Mulder and Scully."  
  
"So you want to see the head then?" the officer asked.  
  
"That's right, we're here for the head," Mulder replied, a little too  
loudly. Scully rolled her eyes and sighed.  
  
Mulder's off*color pun seemed to pass over the officer's head. "Right  
this way then." He lead them out of the lobby, "Second grossest thing  
I've seen in over twenty years on the force," he commented as they  
waited for an elevator.  
  
"What was the grossest?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Eh? Oh, it was back when I was a rookie, some drunk fell in front of  
a train on the El. Damn thing chopped him into three pieces, guts  
everywhere," the officer paused, "That must not seem all that special  
to you people, huh?"  
  
Scully shrugged, "It's always horrible when someone dies a violent  
death."  
  
"Yeah," the officer mulled over what Scully said, "Yeah, I guess  
that's true isn't it?"  
  
"Although that case with the homicidal family of in*breeders was  
pretty nasty," Mulder commented. "Especially the way they kept their  
motherÉerr...wifeÉ"  
  
"Mulder!" Scully snapped, "We don't talk about that, remember?"  
  
The officer looked between Mulder and Scully, trying to form his  
reply. The arrival of the elevator saved him from having to deal with  
Mulder's statement. "We, uh, left the head upstairs in the office it  
was found in."  
  
"So who found it?" Scully asked, the pity in her voice was evident;  
exposure to the X-Files was hard on her, for people who didn't even  
know they exist, it was daunting.  
  
"A secretary in the Editor*in*chief's office."  
  
"How did it get there?"  
  
"You mean you don't know?"  
  
Scully shook her head, "We were just told a head was foundÉit's been a  
busy couple of days for us."  
  
"It was delivered by Airborne Express."  
  
"Was it the regular delivery person?" Mulder asked the officer.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"All delivery companies have drivers work the same route. For a  
business like the Tattler which is sure to be a frequent customer the  
secretaries probably know the deliveryman on sight. Did the secretary  
who opened the box say if it was the usual deliveryman?"  
  
The officer scratched his head, "I don't know. I have to say I was  
pretty focused on the head, the detectives might know."  
  
"I guess I'll have to ask them then."  
  
The elevator came to a stop, cutting off any reply the officer might  
have had. "The head is right down this hall." The officer lead them  
down a hallway lined with framed newspapers.  
  
Mulder glanced at a few of the banner headlines. "Hey Scully,  
remember this case?" he pointed at one of the framed headlines.  
  
"I'm trying not to," Scully curtly replied.  
  
"I wonder how many of these we're on*  
  
"You mean you don't know? I thought you had a subscription?"  
  
Mulder shook his head, "No, the Weekly World News is more my speed."  
  
"I think you're scaring Agent Craston Mulder," Scully commented.  
  
Mulder faced the younger agent who drove them, "Is that true Agent  
Craston? Does the fact that I read the Weekly World News scare you?"  
  
Agent Craston smirked, "Uh according to the rest of the office it  
isn't too surprising."  
  
"See Scully, I'm just living up to the public's expectations of me."  
  
"Living down is more like it," Scully muttered.  
  
"Don't mock, it's got the sixth largest circulation of any paper."  
  
Craston, emboldened by his inclusion in the conversation cleared his  
throat. "So, uh, have you seen a lot of cases? Like this I mean," he  
added after a moment's reflection.  
  
Mulder shrugged, "More than a couple, why, is this your first?"  
  
"My first murder, yeah. I've been working fraud cases mostly."  
  
"Then I recommend you don't look in the box," Mulder said. All the  
humor had drained out of his voice.  
  
The officer came to a stop in front of an office door, "This is the  
place," he needlessly said as he opened the door and walked inside.  
  
Scully put a hand on Craston's arm. "Don't worry, no one's expecting  
you to solve this case. Just keep your eyes open and your moth shut.   
You'll do fine."  
  
Craston smiled wanly, "Thanks Agent Scully."  
They entered the office, inside they found several detectives milling  
about a desk. The officer who brought them there walked over to the  
group. "Detective Wirtz, the FBI is here."  
  
Detective Wirtz, a large man in a too small suit looked over in  
Mulder's direction. "Thanks Burkowski. You can go back down to the  
lobby. Hi there, I'm Detective Wirtz, this is my partner, Detective  
Polian."  
  
Craston held out his hand. "I'm Agent Craston, these are Agents Mulder  
and Scully."  
  
"So what is so important about you two that we've had to keep this  
head here for so long?" Wirtz demanded.  
  
"Did the secretary say if the head was delivered by the usual  
deliveryman?" Mulder asked without preamble.  
  
"Wait a second, I'm the one asking the questions here," Wirtz  
protested.  
  
"Because this head was sent by a killer we're investigating."  
  
"Now how do you know that?"  
  
"There's a note in the box with the phrase, 'And I have seen my head  
brought in upon a platter.' And there's also probably a silver  
platter as well."  
  
"How did you know that?" Detective Polian, a thin man with sunken  
cheeks, spluttered. "You haven't even looked in the box!"  
  
Mulder stared at the Chicago detective, "It's a line from a poem, and  
my killer has been staging his victims to match sections of the poem."  
  
"Must be a damn twisted poem," Wirtz observed.  
  
"It's a love song, what do you expect?" Mulder deadpanned.  
  
"Hey, this is just like that book, you know, Nebraska by, by, shoot  
what's that guy's name?"  
  
"Richard Farris," Mulder supplied.  
  
"Yeah, him, I really liked that book," Polian commented.  
  
"So did the killer," Mulder noted.  
  
"So you're saying we've got an honest*to*god serial killer on our  
hands?" Wirtz asked, doing his best not to appear too fascinated by  
this development.  
  
"This is the third victim in our investigation. I think we'll find  
the fourth in a couple of hours. An Airborne Express truck driver."  
  
"And how does that relate to your poem?" Polian asked.  
  
"It doesn't but the only way Lector could deliver the head was by  
posing as a deliveryman. I bet he even finished the driver's route  
before ditching the truck."  
  
Everyone in the office turned and face Mulder , he had uttered the  
magic word. "Lector, as in Hannibal Lector?" Wirtz asked in a  
whisper.  
  
Mulder shrugged, "Yeah, that's the guy."  
  
"Hannibal Lector in Chicago, great, that's just what I need."  
  
"Relax detective, he just wanted to send a message he's not in  
Chicago."  
  
Scully let Mulder talk to the detectives. She took the opportunity to  
examine the head. She noticed a small pool of vomit on the floor next  
to the desk, its origin was not hard to surmise. Scully opened the  
box and saw that Mulder was indeed correct; there was the head of a  
balding man sitting on a silver platter. Unbidden memories of Sunday  
school flashed in her head. She wondered if the story of John the  
Baptist had any bearing on what she was seeing. It certainly was  
something to ask Mulder later.  
  
She motioned for a uniformed officer to come over to where she was  
standing. "Could you see this box gets to the morgue immediately?"   
She asked.  
  
The officer nodded, "Yes ma'am the coroner is on his way."  
  
Scully nodded her understanding; she realized there was no way she  
could get anyone here to carry the box. "Agent Craston?" She called  
out.  
  
Yes?" Craston asked.  
  
"Would you mind giving me a hand with this box?"  
  
Craston nodded, "Sure thing Agent Scully. I'll go find a hand cart."   
Craston walked out of the office.  
  
"Are you sure that's necessary?" Polian asked. "The coroner will be  
here soon enough."  
  
Scully shook her head, "I want to examine the head in Quantico. No  
offense, but it is the more capable lap."  
  
Polian held up his hands, "Hey whatever, this case looks like nothing  
but a total migraine, and I'm busy enough as it is."  
  
"Believe me, I wish I didn't have to."  
  
A radio chirped and the officer Scully had spoken to earlier answered  
it. "Hey detectives, they found the delivery guy."  
  
Wirtz spun around as fast as his beefy frame would allow, "Where?" he  
demanded.  
  
"In a dumpster a couple of blocks away. Some bums went dumpster  
diving and found more than they were looking for."  
  
"Is there any visible cause of death?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Yeah, his throat was cut."  
  
"Lector killed him out of necessity then. The delivery truck was a  
way in, but he couldn't risk the package in the mail."  
  
"So he killed the delivery guy? Damn, that's cold," Wirtz observed.  
  
"It's the practical thing to do, no witnesses."  
  
A man in an expensive business suit cleared his throat. "So what  
you're saying is that Hannibal Lector personally delivered a head to  
my office?"  
  
Mulder nodded, "Pretty much."  
  
"Fantastic, Roberts over at the Enquirer is going to have kittens when  
he hears this." He rubbed his hands together, "Lector on the cover is  
a twenty percent boost in readership. Especially with a nice big  
picture on the front page."  
  
"We of course need your surveillance tapes," Mulder said in a matter  
of fact voice.  
  
"The Tattler has a triple redundant recording system tied into the  
surveillance cameras. There is no way you can sit on this," the man  
Scully took to be the paper's editor said triumphantly.  
  
Mulder shrugged, "There's a news conference scheduled for this  
afternoon, why should I care what you put on your paper."  
  
"So are you the lead investigator on this case Agent Mulder?" The  
editor asked.  
  
Scully anxiously watched Mulder, she knew she couldn't interfere  
without it looking odd, but she also was afraid of what Mulder might  
say. "I'm one of several agents investigation this case, that's all,"  
Mulder guardedly said.  
  
"Fair enough, but why is Lector back? And what is with the snippet of  
Prufrock?"  
  
Mulder smiled, "AT this stage of the investigation it's too soon to  
speculate about motives."  
  
"Can you tell us anything, like hwo he is targeting? Our readers need  
to know if they're at risk."  
  
"You'll have to watch the press conference like everyone else," Mulder  
replied. "Besides, Lector doesn't work like that, if I were to say  
that he was targeting some group he would damn well kill someone  
outside of that group just to prove me, or any other investigator  
wrong."  
  
"Mulder, we have to get this head back to Quantico," Scully  
interjected, not wanting to let this conversation continue.  
  
Mulder looked around the room. His eyes settled on a  
frightened*looking secretary. "Were you the person who opened the  
box?" He asked the young woman, she nodded. "Did the person who  
delivered it say anything out of the ordinary?"  
  
The secretary frowned, "No, I don't think...Wait, I'm not sure, but  
when he was leaving I heard him say something, it had something to do  
with time."  
  
Mulder nodded, "There will be time, there will be time."  
  
"Yeah, that was it," the secretary exclaimed.  
  
"Mulder?" Scully asked.  
  
Mulder turned to face Scully, "There will be time, To prepare a face  
to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and  
create," he recited. "Yeah, we can go now." He turned and left the  
office, walking past a surprised Agent Craston, who had just arrived  
with a stretcher.  
  
*Washington DC, 1:27 PM*  
The Cigarette*Smoking Man dropped a butt on the ground and  
extinguished it with his shoe. Lector had requested a meeting at the  
Library of Congress and while CSM was quite happy to flaunt smoking  
regulations everywhere he didn't want to bring that sort of attention  
on himself right now. Not when he was meeting Hannibal Lector. CSM  
walked through the stacks until he came to the mythology section, the  
prearranged meeting spot. He walked down the stack, ostensibly  
examining the titles of the shelved books, but in reality he glanced  
up and down the stack, trying to spot Lector.  
  
"Hello CG, come here often?"  
  
CSM stiffened for a moment, but forced himself to relax, Lector  
wouldn't hurt him, not as long as he had something Hannibal wanted.   
"Hello Hannibal, I would, but you know, work and all..."  
  
Lector pulled a book off of a shelf and started to read it. "Tut,  
tut, CD, all work and no play makes you a dull boy."  
  
"It also gives me the perfect opportunity to eliminate anyone who's in  
my way while they're playing."  
  
Lector smiled, "Quite so, but everyone needs a release, what's yours?"  
Lector paused. "But we are not here to discuss your peccadilloes,  
we're here to discuss my payment. Do you have it?"  
  
"Mulder is still among the living, I only pay for a completed job."   
CSM did in fact have the information, but he didn't want to hand it  
over unless he had to.  
  
"Oh come now CG, you'll give me the information, or I'll just kill you  
here and take it from you, either way is fine with me."  
  
"And who says you'll get out of here alive if you do that?"  
  
"Who says I'll get out of here alive if I do let you live?" So maybe  
I should kill you anyway, that way we both lose."  
  
CSM sighed, "Fine, you can have you disc. Just not here, I'll place  
it in one of the computer terminals, you can pick it up there."  
  
"I knew you'd see things my way. It's been a pleasure as always CG."   
Lector re-shelved his book and walked away.  
  
CSM waiting a few moments before walking out of the library. He had  
already ordered one of his men to plant the disc in the computer. The  
disc he carried was blank. If Lector had killed him the project would  
still be safe. CSM lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The pieces  
were in place, now all that remained was to watch and see how it fell  
out. He exhaled a long stream of smoke, this was the part of the job  
that he loved. He finished the cigarette and walked back towards his  
office.  
  
*FBI HQ, 1:52pm*  
  
"Hey Scully, want a Twinkie?" Mulder asked as he walked into the  
office, his arms laden down with junk food.  
  
"What's this?" Scully asked as Mulder deposited his burden on the  
desk.  
  
"Lunch," Mulder replied before taking a bite out of a Snickers bar.  
  
"What did you do, buy one of everything in the machine? No, wait,  
don't answer that. Anyway, while you were out buying all this crap I  
ordered us some subs."  
  
"Ok, so this is breakfast and the subs will be lunch."  
  
Scully sighed and grabbed a piece of candy at random. "We've got more  
background on victim two," she commented.  
  
"Karen Trimble?"  
  
Scully nodded, she pushed a few candy bars out of the way and picked  
up a folder, "Karen Trimble, age thirty*six, never married, no  
children. He father I still alive, but her mother died twenty*five  
years ago."  
  
"Cause of death on the mother?"  
  
Scully leafed through a few pages of the file, "Suicide, she had long  
history of mental illness.." her voice trailed off as something on the  
page caught her attention. "Mulder, one of the doctors the mother saw  
was Lector."  
  
Mulder frowned, "I don't remember any Trimbles among Lector's  
victims."  
  
"That's because it was decided that her death wasn't a result of  
Lector. There were suicide attempts before she saw Lector."  
  
"Lector treating a person with suicidal tendencies, that's a good  
idea. He probably told her what she was doing wrong and how to fix  
it."  
  
Scully looked up from the folder, "Probably, in any event it doesn't  
look like out victim was ever treated by Lector."  
  
"Still he knew her mother, so he knew about our victim."  
  
"But why her?"  
  
"I don't know," Mulder said, "It has to have something to do with the  
mother, but if we don't know what Lector did to her..." he paused.  
  
"Mulder, what is it?" Scully asked, recognizing the germination of an  
idea in her partner's head.  
  
"Do we have an address on the father?"  
  
Scully shuffled through the folder, "Yes, he lives just outside of  
Baltimore."  
  
Mulder stood up and grabbed his jacket, "Let's go."  
  
"Go where?"  
  
"To talk to the father, he's the only person to can tell us what  
happened to his wife."  
  
"But what about the Attorney General?" Scully protested.  
  
"He doesn't want to hear what I have to say."  
  
"What about my sandwich?" She asked, more plaintively this time.  
  
Mulder opened the office door to reveal a stagger holding a plastic  
bag. Mulder took the bag. "Scully will pay you," he said over his  
shoulder as he walked down the hall.  
  
*Home of Robert Trimble, 3:07 PM*  
  
"We beat the press," Mulder commented.  
  
"The press conference isn't for another half hour," Scully replied.  
  
"The we'd better do what came to do and get out of here." Mulder  
pushed the door bell to the nondescript home.  
  
After a few moments the door opened a crack and the head of an older  
man appeared, "Yes, what do you want?"  
  
"Are you Clarence Trimble?" Scully asked.  
  
"Yes, who are you?"  
  
"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, and this is my partner Special Agent  
Fox Mulder. We're terribly sorry for your loss, but we were wondering  
if we could ask you a few questions."  
  
"I've already talk to the police," Trimble said.  
  
"We're trying to get to know who your daughter was," Mulder added,  
"The more we know about her the better our chances of catching her  
killer are."  
  
Trimble nodded, "Alright fine, come in." He held open the door for  
the agents. He lead them into a sparse living room. "We moved here  
after my wife passed on. I never really got around to sprucing the  
place up. Take a seat." He motioned for Mulder and Scully to sit  
down on a sofa. He sat down in an overstuffed easy chair. "What do  
you want to know?" he asked the agents.  
  
"Can you tell us what your daughter was like, before your wife's  
death?" Mulder asked.  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Trimble demanded.  
  
"Please sir, your daughter was killed for a reason, who she was, the  
better picture, I, we, have of her, the better our chances of catching  
her killer."  
  
"You mean she's dead because of something she did?"  
  
"No, I'm not blaming her for anything, but the man who killed her did  
so because something about her fit a pattern for the killer. So the  
more we know about her the easier it will be to know why the killer  
chose her."  
  
"And that will hlp you catch this bastard?"  
  
Mulder nodded, "Yes sir."  
  
Trimble leaned back in his chair, "Well she always was a quiet child,  
she wasn't unhappy or anything like that, she just liked to be by  
herself and read."  
  
"Did she have any friends?" Scully asked.  
  
"Oh yes, not many, but she did have a small group of friends. They  
used to have sleep overs." Trimble smiled, lost in a distant memory.  
  
"What about after your wife's death?" Mulder asked in a quiet voice.  
  
Trimble sighed, "It was like she faded. She was very close to her  
mother and to lose her like that, you never get over that, I know I  
haven't. it was so sudden an unexpected."  
  
Mulder frowned, "I thought your wife had a history of mental problems  
and suicide attempts."  
  
"My wife was not suicidal!" Trimble barked. "That bastard Lector  
killed her."  
  
"But her file..." Scully started to say.  
  
"Nothing but lies, one time she was shaving her legs and cut herself.   
Lector claimed it was a subconscious attempt to hurt herself. Another  
time she was driving home on a rainy night and her car skidded off the  
road into a ditch. 'Dr.' Lector said she tried to kill herself; my  
mechanic said it was a blockage in a brake line. My wife had her  
problems, but she wasn't suicidal."  
  
"So she did have a problem of some sort?" Mulder asked.  
  
"She was depressed, but who isn't form time to time?" Trimble held up  
his hands, "Yes, I know, Mary hung herself, but it was Lector who put  
the idea into her head."  
  
Mulder cleared his throat, "Did, uh, your wife ever take your daughter  
to one of her sessions with Dr. Lector?"  
  
"Not that I know of...why?" Trimble thought for a moment, "You're not  
saying that Lector killed Karen?"  
  
"We have...strong evidence that points to that direction," Scully  
tactfully said.  
  
"We're the ones who found your daughter Mr. Trimble," Mulder said,  
"Lector called me and told me where to find her." He stared straight  
at Mr. Trimble, "I was not in on the decision not to tell you this.   
I'm telling you this now because I need to know why Lector chose your  
daughter."  
  
Trimble ran his hands through his thinning hair. "Mary must've told  
him something, she was so proud of Karen. But I never...wait, there  
was one time. It was after one of Mary's first sessions. Her car was  
in the shop so Karen and I picked her up. Mary introduced us to  
Lector. Karen wouldn't speak to him, she thought his eyes were  
creepy. Lector laughed it off and said that shyness is nothing to be  
ashamed of. That was the only time."  
  
Mulder stood up, "Thank*you Mr. Trimble, you've been a tremendous  
help."  
  
"You're going to catch that son of a bitch, right?"  
  
"You have my word," Mulder said as sincerely as possible.  
  
"Don't get up, we can let ourselves out," Scully said. "Oh, you also  
might want to get a lawyer. There is going to be a press conference  
today about this, and the tabloids are going to be lined up at your  
door."  
  
Trimble smiled wanly, "Thanks for the warning."  
  
Mulder and Scully walked out of the house in silence. "Did you get  
what you were looking for?" Scully asked as they got into their car.  
  
"He killed the mother to see how it would affect the daughter, and  
once he knew that, he killed the daughter. Loose ends."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's about loose ends, he tidied up for the mob, he took care of one  
of his 'test subjects.' Scully, would it be possible to tell if he  
was sick based off of a photo?"  
  
"Depending on the disease it would be possible, but not conclusive by  
any means. What makes you think he's sick?"  
  
"Terminally ill, Prufrock is a poem about the realization of your  
mortality. 'I have seen the Eternal Coachman,' and all that. He  
might be dying Scully."  
  
"That's pretty tenuous Mulder."  
  
Mulder shrugged, "Just a hunch, but it answers the question, why now."  
Mulder turned onto an onramp and merged with the rest of the freeway  
traffic.  
  
"So what happens next?"  
  
"We wait for his next move, which shouldn't take long."  
  
(To be Continued) 


End file.
